


Equinox

by daylighthour



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Autumn, Bed-sharing, Camping, Equinox, Friendship, Gen, Hunting, If you want - Freeform, Lost - Freeform, M/M, Metaphor, Pagan, bandits, could be slash, fall - Freeform, otherwise, season, seasons as a metaphor, seasons as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylighthour/pseuds/daylighthour
Summary: It is the night when everything is to be balanced and magical. Arthur and Merlin are without horses, injured, but they do have each other, huddled together beneath a shared cloak for warmth and protection.





	Equinox

**Author's Note:**

> Mabon is the Celtic/pagan name for the festival that begins at the Autumnal equinox. I've just assumed Merlin's universe to be pagan.

The moon is nearly full, and it slips behind and out from wispy clouds like a bashful child. It is Mabon, the equinox night, and it seems everything hangs in a delicate balance, not just the daylight. The horses have escaped for fear of the bandits, Merlin admittedly having been too hasty in tying them up, but he and Arthur have found a safe place for the night, a small ditch hidden by trees. As for the bandits, those who survived have been battered and bruised and fended off, though they did leave Arthur with a nastily broken sword arm and Merlin with large bruise along his side.

  
The day’s pleasantness has given way to chill, both reminder and omen of the winter to come. Merlin notices Arthur shiver in his sleep, and tugs the royal cloak tighter around them both. Arthur leans against Merlin’s chest, and this positioning was a matter of delicate balance as well. Normally on a night like this he and Merlin would sleep back to back with the cloak tossed over them, but Arthur can only sleep on his left because of his arm and Merlin can only sleep on his left because of his bruise.

But after a good deal of fussing on Arthur’s part and downright insolent comments on Merlin’s, they had discovered that Merlin propped slightly against bedroll and rock, and Arthur leaning against the side that didn’t pain him was a very comfortable and warm position. Merlin had tucked the blanket around them both and done his best not to move since, because he had seen the way Arthur was cradling his arm gingerly and knew that he was in pain no matter how he grumbled that he wasn’t.

  
And so it had been for an hour or two, Arthur sleeping soundly and Merlin watching the moon rise higher in the sky. He was exhausted too, but there was something peaceful about this night, otherworldly. The earth was born of magic, every fibre sewn together with its power, Gaius had told him, and on this night Merlin felt its pulsing presence like no other. Everything was balanced, precariously, teetering on a precipice, but safe. Merlin had thought of using magic to try to heal Arthur’s arm but decided against it, and now he lay with the strangely comforting weight of Arthur against him and his slow, sleepy breaths warm in his ear.

  
The forest was still, not even a breeze or a bird to dance across the leaves, and Merlin was basking in this stillness when he felt movement against his chest. Arthur grunted, and Merlin tried to shift him infinitesimally, thinking that he had made this noise of discomfort in his sleep. He checked that he was not touching Arthur’s injured arm.

  
“Merlin?” Arthur whispered, voice rough and groggy from sleep.

  
“Arthur?” Merlin said, instantly more alert. “What is it? Is it your arm?”

  
He had spoken quickly, but Arthur’s voice remained slow and tired. “No, it’s fine.” He shifted, making to sit up more and winced as his broken arm jostled. Gently, Merlin pressed him back against his chest, and Arthur didn’t protest.

  
A while has passed in silence, so much so that Merlin thinks Arthur has fallen back asleep, but then his voice comes again. “You’re awake still, Merlin. Does your side hurt?”

  
A warm sensation fans out from Merlin’s middle at Arthur’s concern. “No. Much less than your arm does, I’d guess.”

  
Arthur grunts again, neither affirming nor denying it.

  
Merlin adjusts himself, adjusts Arthur, adjusts the blankets. “Go back to sleep, Arthur. You can hardly keep your eyes open.”

  
The silence returns for a while, enough that the moon can sneak behind a hazy cloud and amble back out again. Merlin is looking at the trees, the canopy from behind which the sky peaks, when Arthur’s voice comes so softly he thinks it’s a breeze at first.

  
“I had a nightmare.”

  
And again, it is a moment of balance. Merlin is silent, letting the cool air invite Arthur to speak in his own time. Beneath Arthur, Merlin’s heart thrums with apprehension, with the desire to chase away all that troubles his prince, but he prays that Arthur cannot feel it. Arthur, he knows, does not take well to pity.

  
“We were running, like now, without horses to ride. Bandits came, but with your side we couldn’t outrun them, and my arm…” Arthur’s voice faded away from his patchwork of stilted admissions, until he tilted his head fully back to look at his manservant. “How am I to protect you, Merlin?”

  
Arthur’s eyes, so bright blue and brilliant and _honest_ , bore into him through the darkness and enrapture him, so all Merlin can do is let his jaw fall. “What?”

  
Arthur turns away, and something of the night’s magic is broken now that Merlin can no longer see his eyes. He stares resolutely down the length of the cloak. “I cannot hold a sword like this. What if we were to be ambushed just now?”

  
Merlin wraps his arm tighter around Arthur’s chest, to support him and definitely not just to hug him and feel him close. “I think even left-handed you could give any bandit a fair shot.”

  
“A fair shot may not be enough to keep you safe, Merlin.”

  
For the briefest of instants, Merlin is seized with the desire to laugh, to shout so loudly of just how many times it has been him who saved Arthur’s life that he shakes the sleeping birds from their nests. But then the concern and worry in Arthur’s voice seep into him, trickle like honey down his throat. He feels the tension in Arthur’s muscles against his chest, sees the way he keeps his jaw clench and his eyes trained on the forest, on anything but Merlin.

  
For a moment Merlin reminds himself of the careful balance, of the waters he must not cause to ripple, of the air he must not shake to wind. But the moon and its magic make him bold, and so he nestles his cheek into Arthur’s hair and ghosts a kiss so lightly across his ear that it might have never been.

  
“We’ve survived how long without each other?” Merlin whispers. “We’ll manage, even without your sword arm.”

  
Arthur mumbles something that Merlin doesn’t quite catch. He shakes Arthur gently. “What was that?”

  
Arthur still refuses to look at him, still arches his back tightly and keeps his injured arm flush against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  
“You don’t have to worry about that, because nothing will happen.” He nudges Arthur, gives his cheek a quick prod until he’s sure Arthur is following his gaze. “Look at the woods, Arthur. Look how still everything is. There’s nothing for miles.”

  
Arthur grumbles, not sounding very convinced, and Merlin continues on. “Can’t you feel how peaceful it is? Just shut your eyes and feel it. There’s not a hint of danger in the air.”

  
Arthur does indeed close his eyes, and Merlin lets him be for a while, feeling the peace soothe him like a warm, flowing river. He checks Arthur a few moments later and sees that his breathing is slowing, feels the muscles in his back relax, feels him lean closer to Merlin’s touch.

  
“Sleep, Arthur,” he says, brushing a hand through his hair. “We have a long, bandit-free day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  
Arthur smiles slightly, but it’s dark enough that Merlin can pretend never to have seen it. Within minutes, he is asleep again, and Merlin is once more alone with the night. Because it is dark and peaceful and magical, Merlin whispers again in Arthur’s ear, so soft it is more breath than speech.

  
“And if anything does happen, heaven forbid, I’ll protect you and I’ll protect me. Just like always, Arthur. Just like always.”

  
Merlin closes his eyes and leans back upon the bedroll. The next night there will be slightly more darkness, slightly more winter. The balance of this night will be gone, but for now, Merlin is content to sleep here, like this, alongside a friend. Perhaps then, with the tipping of balance and despite the coming winter, there will be more light in his life, and in Arthur’s. 


End file.
